Okay, I admit it. I'm terrified.

I have a teenage daughter.

I typed those words and just sat and watched the cursor blink...blink...blink at me and realized how full that statement feels. My oldest daughter turned 13 over the summer and I guess I just never really thought about it happening. She was going to be 11 forever!

I remember distinctly how the 6th grade ended for her. She went to the Middle School dance and it went kind of badly for her. It was her first dance and girls at that age all flock together looking and pointing and giggling at the boys but not really expecting to dance with one. I don't know what happened exactly but I do remember the drive home - she was in tears - unable to explain to me exactly what was upsetting her. She felt ignored by the boys - she felt plain and uninteresting and "not pretty". Why can't she wear make up and shave her legs like the other girls?! Flummoxed - and a little sad for her grief I told her all she had to do was ask. Boy, talk about unprepared! I looked over at my little girl who was still dressing a bit tom-boyish (that's another blog) and wondered how I was going to explain to her dad I needed to take her razor shopping. All I know is that my dark cloud lifted when she looked over at me with a smile through her tears and said, "Really?" with an expectant look on her face. Sigh... here we go.